She Lives, and She Lies
by JustClem
Summary: Rachel doesn't survive The Dark Room. She gasps, and she stumbles, and she breathes, but she doesn't survive.
1. nowhere else to go (but home)

**She Lives, and She Lies**

_JustClem_

* * *

**Chapter I; ****nowhere else to go (but home)**

_**{**Originally published in 16th of August, 2019**}**_

Chloe stops being angry when Rachel shows up with blood all over herself and a haze in her eyes that tells her she needs help.

* * *

**~...~**

* * *

Chloe paces around the room, angry. Of course, she's always angry, irrationally so, she's Chloe Price, the punk badass with loads of baggage. But tonight, she's angry with a reason.

"_You need to back off, Chloe,"_ echoes the 'calm, peaceful talk' with Rachel, making her shut her eyes and hyperventilate. Her room is small, so small, and she needs space. She needs to tear these walls apart to give herself more space, more air to breathe.

So Chloe tears the walls. Or tries to, anyway. What she ends up doing is rip away the posters she's chosen without a care in the world.

"_Why are you acting like this, Chloe?"_

Ah. A mini globe. Why not break it?

So Chloe breaks it by slamming it down to the floor. She loved that thing. Loved to twirl it and watch it go round and round and round. What a shitty thing.

"_Jeez, Chloe. You're acting like we're dating, or something."_

Posters. More posters, ripped apart by claw-like hands. And things. Useless things she never used and never throw away. They break into more useless pieces. Things. Most things are useless. She is the prime, priceless example of that.

"_That's it, Chloe! We're through!"_

The name Chloe, her name, spoken in many different variations.

Rachel sings as she speaks. With every word is a note, a string of notes, a melody, a lullaby.

And tonight, she has sung the song of Chloe's broken heart.

And now it's all over. Just. Just like that, huh? Just- just with a snap of the finger. A couple of words. One silly mistake. And that's it. It's all over. Boom. Goodbye, Chloe. See ya, Chloe. Never gonna miss ya, Chloe. Hope you die, Chloe.

Yeah, hah. What a load of bull. It's all bullshit anyway. Rachel is bullshit. And Chloe is a bigger bullshit for believing Rachel is anything but bullshit. For believing she's not as big of a bullshit as everyone else. For hoping she'd be a different kind of bullshit.

Hah. Hahah. Oh, Price, what a fucking idiot you are.

So Chloe tears, and Chloe slams, and Chloe destroys, because that's all she's ever good at; tearing her relationships apart, slams the door that would let other people in, and destroys her own heart with her obsessed, clingy self.

Oh, is that a beer, right there? Oh, wait, no. That's from three days ago. It's probably, like, full of ants by now.

Chloe finds herself chugging the half-empty can anyway, because who knows? Maybe she'll die from alcohol poisoning. Or maybe from the ants that, like, invades her organs and chews out her intestines n' shit.

Maybe.

Yeah. No. She's not that lucky. She'll live to see another day, unfortunately.

Finishing off her stale-ass beer and surrounded by the chaos she's created is when she hears the doorbell ringing.

Chloe groans because there's only one person who ever uses the doorbell, and that person is the very bitch that's told her she needed to back the fuck off literally hours ago.

Yeah, there's no way she's going to answer that door.

The bell keeps on ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Non stop. It's like whoever's out there doesn't want to waste their time waiting, and is in a rush, and can't afford anymore BS.

Chloe opens the door on the seventh ring, biting words locked and loaded and ready to fire, like bullets, only to freeze.

Rachel isn't standing. She's leaning onto the wall, and she's disheveled, and flushed, and pale.

There are smears of blood all over her face, tainting her white top, which pink.

And there's a glassy haze in her eyes.

A haze that says she's not quite there, and she desperately needs help.

"Heeeey, Chloe…" Her words slur. Rachel pushes herself off of the wall only to stumble back. Chloe, on instinct, grabs her. Rachel chuckles, finding something funny. "Didn't know where else to go…"

And Rachel slumps into unconsciousness, crashing right into Chloe's chest, forcing Chloe to take a few steps back and add more weight to her feet. "R-Rachel? Rachel, hey! Wake up!"

Rachel disobeys her.

She whimpers and clutches at Chloe's top like it'll keep her from drowning, but she doesn't wake up.

"Rachel…"

That's when Chloe notices the rips in Rachel's shirt. And the smears of blood and dirt and grass all over her like a fucked-up decoration. And the small swells of red surrounding her wrists.

Oh God.

Chloe hoists Rachel up, bridal-carry, and calls out for her mother and David only to remember that they're on a trip to visit David's grandparents over the weekend.

Small trails of tears keep falling down from Rachel's face, and Chloe, for once, isn't angry. Well, she is, she always is, she's Chloe Price, but more than that she's scared. She's so fucking scared. What the fuck happened?

Deep down, Chloe already knows. She's not as airheaded as she acts to be. But she doesn't want to think about it, much less believe it. She'd rather it be a prank. A sick, unfunny prank, but a prank nonetheless.

It's loads better than the alternative.

She drops Rachel onto her bed gentler than she's dropped any girl onto her bed. Gentler than she's dropped herself onto her bed. Not that that says much.

"Shit, shit, shit, aaaah, okay."

She rubs her hands, and wonders if she should Google what to do. Maybe she should call Stepdouche. Yeah, that's probably a good idea.

She calls Stepdouche. No answer.

"Fuck!"

Joyce. Joyce might answer.

She does not.

Chloe considers straight up calling the cops, but one glance at Rachel's frail form makes her reconsider. No, it's not a good idea, probably. What if- what if Rachel doesn't want to go to the cops? What if she'll end up getting interrogated or, worse, blamed for falling victim of- of- of whatever it is that happened.

Rachel whimpers, and the decision is made without a real thought.

Chloe is on auto-pilot, checking in for bruises and scrapes. Normally, the roles are reversed. Chloe would've preferred it staying that way.

None of the wounds are deep, or all that serious. They're red lines. Scratches. The kind you get from getting in contact with branches. Chloe would know. She's done it many times as a kid, and more times as an adult.

There's only a slight fever. Rachel's forehead is warm. And she sometimes breathes through her nose. And shivers. Chloe wraps up her blankets around her, and she stops shivering. Good. That's good.

Chloe paces, angry. She wants to ruin her already-ruined room, but she doesn't want to keep Rachel from her rest, so she paces some more.

She goes through her contacts one more time. Joyce and David won't answer. She doubts Trevor or Justin would be of much help. Or anyone, really. Is there anyone in Arcadia Bay that can be trusted in this situation?

Chloe tries to think of an answer, and shudders when she finds none.

She's already cleaned up the small scratches. Every single one of them. And then she goes over through them again, because she's scared she misses a spot. And one last time, just- just to make sure, you know? You never know, after all.

Fuck. This is the first time she wishes David was home.

Chloe lies down when she has nothing better to do. She tries to sleep, then realises her bedroom door is unlocked, and locks it. She tries again, then realises the front door is unlocked, and unlocks her bedroom door to go downstairs and lock it. Half-way through the stairs, she realises the some of the windows are still open, and closes them. Once inside, she realises her window is open, and closes it.

She checks twice to make sure her door is locked.

That's when she lies down again.

And she can't sleep. She can't even close her eyes. She keeps darting her eyes to Rachel's form, before darting all throughout the dark, searching and seeing things that aren't there.

Her heart beats painfully loud and strong for hours.

Rachel wakes up when the sky is transitioning from pitch black into a murky shade of purple.

She wakes up crying, and moaning, and muttering "please" and "no" and Chloe bites her lip so hard it bleeds.

"Rachel. Rachel, hey…"

Chloe touches Rachel at the cheek - just the faintest of touches - but Rachel flinches away from the notion, distraught coloring her half-conscious face.

She turns and tries to move, tries to do something, but she's too weak, still under the influence of- of whatever it is that's pumped into her vessels. Something other than weed or booze. Something even burnout nobodies like Chloe stays away from.

Rachel's eyes shot open, like someone pinched her, and a gasp tore from her lips. She chokes and splutters and groans and- fuck, fuck, fuck, the fuck happened to you, Rach?

She stills, and breathes heavily and faintly, as if she doesn't want someone to hear her breathe, as if it would get her in trouble.

"Rachel." Chloe must've sounded rough, because Rachel flinches. Chloe softens her tone with a clear of the throat, her hand hovering over Rachel's body, not sure what to do with it. "Rachel, hey. It's me…"

And then Rachel looks at Chloe. And Chloe swallows to keep herself from crying and screaming at how utterly bewildered Rachel looks.

"Chloe?" Fuck. Her voice is so small, so scratchy, and so, so broken. She sounds and looks like she wants to believe Chloe really is here, but can't; like she doesn't know what to believe anymore.

Chloe wants to fix all of her shit just so she can break them all over again.

"It's me, Rachel. It's really me. You're safe, Rachel. You're safe with me."

Because no matter how much of a fuck-up Chloe is, she won't ever, ever hurt Rachel. Not in that way. Never that way. Not to anyone.

Rachel breaks. For once, it's not Chloe's fault. For once, Chloe is there to catch her, instead of being the one to push her down.

And there's a small part of Chloe somewhere that must've realized how serious this is, and how badly she needs to stop acting like a shithead, and grow the fuck up already, because suddenly Chloe is soft words and strong arms and dependable and she's letting Rachel bawl it all out, shushing her like a mother hen, or something.

And Rachel's too scared to care.

Somewhere between the "I'm here"s and the "You're safe"s exists a small, inaudible "I'm sorry" and "It's all my fault", and the longer time passes, the more those two self-blaming words take more of the spotlight.

And Rachel is too broken to hear.

All she says are "Chloe, Chloe, _Chloe_" and "I didn't know. I should've known but I didn't. I _didn't_" and a weird mix of both.

Rachel collapses as the sun rises.

The morning is muted. And all Chloe can hear is Rachel's breathing, her own breathing, and the white noise of her fan, always buzzing and fluttering, never-ending.

Chloe moves so Rachel's on top of her. She guides her so her head nestles into Chloe's neck, and her face rests on Chloe's collarbone. Her cheek presses right against Chloe's heart, and Chloe wonders if Rachel can hear just how big the drummings of her heartbeat is.

"Chloe…"

Rachel's hands weakly drags themselves from Chloe's wrists, all the way up to her forearm, until it finds Chloe's shoulder. She grabs at the straps of Chloe's top and squeezes, unwilling to let go after two tries of prying from Chloe.

"I'll never let you go, Rachel. Never again."

"Chloe, I should've-"

"Hush." Chloe strokes Rachel's hair, and feels Rachel slowly diving into slumber. "Just sleep, yeah?"

"I don't remember what happened." Her voice, breathy, tickles the skin poking out of her top's thin fabric. With how loose it is, Chloe is basically topless. "I don't remember how I got out…"

"We'll figure it out." Chloe kisses the top of Rachel's head and smells jasmine. It's not lustful. It's not full of nervousness and hesitance. It's something different. Something she's never experienced before. Something stronger than crushes or make-outs. Something… stable. "We'll figure it out together."

* * *

**~...~**

* * *

**A**uthor's **N**ote**:**

This series, posted in Ao3 at first, might be one of the weirdest things I've ever written. It started out as a What-If scenario, and ended up being a sort of mini-series that doesn't really lead anywhere. I've read many stories where Rachel never entered The Dark Room, or she got out of it due to the powers she secretly has, but they never really explore the aftermath.

When it comes to Pricefield, both Max and Chloe have matured around each other, and their relationship is more stable and cuter and overall wholesome due to them being childhood best friends. But Amberprice, on the other hand, is chaotic, and messy, and awkward, and at times toxic, and it's so fun to write. There are no time powers, or magical storms in their hands. All they have is teenage drama, and I_ so_ love it.


	2. don't let me go (even if it hurts)

**She Lives, and She Lies**

_JustClem_

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**Chapter II; don't let me go (even if it hurts)**

_**{**Originally published in 23rd of August, 2019**}**_

Rachel tries to cope.

Rachel can't cope.

Chloe tries to help.

There's nothing she can do to help.

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**~...~**

* * *

Rachel wakes up to yelling. Chloe, yelling to whoever is on the other side of the call.

"No, David. Fuck. She didn't- yes, I'm sure! She wouldn't- I know she wouldn't!" A pause. Then, the smashing of a fist to a wooden frame. "Because I know Rachel, and she'd never try anything dangerous! She parties a lot, yes, but that doesn't-" A frustrated, muffled, and incoherent yell. "You know what, David?! This isn't even the main issue!"

Chloe's never called her douche of a stepfather by his real name. Not even that time where she needed his help to bust her pretty ass out of jail for vandalising the high and mighty statue of the powerful Presscott; Nathan's great, great-

Nathan…

Nathan, acting unusually nice, offering to be an outlet for her venting, listening as she rants about how weird Chloe's acting recently, and how badly she wants to leave this shithole of a town.

Nathan, promising to take her back to her room safely when a great wave of dizziness hits her head.

_Nathan, not taking her back to her room._

Blackness. Blankness. Fatigue. Feverishness. Eeriness.

The inability to scream when her mouth was open.

The inability to move when her body was unrestrained.

The inability to see when her eyes stared unblinkingly.

"-chel! Rachel! Hey!"

Rachel pushes Nathan off of her. She jolts up, and can't think of a reason why she's on a bed, and why her surroundings are familiar. She wobbles on her feet. Clearly, what he's given her hasn't worn off yet.

Nathan is persistent. It shows in how his hands latch onto hers - with a grip weaker than she thought it would be - before she can take a step.

Rachel pulls her hand away, and, with a scream, slaps him in the face. Hard.

Only, it's not Nathan who receives the hit.

It's not Nathan who stumbles, hits his thigh on the desk, and falls down.

It's not Nathan who hisses and clutches his face tenderly, rubbing at where a red spot is already forming.

"Chloe!" Rachel sobs - since when did she start crying? - and falls on her knees. "No, no, no. I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's-" A withering sigh as Chloe attempts to regain her senses. "It's fine, Rach."

"No, it's not!"

Rachel is a quivering, broken mess, and usually, she'd never let Chloe nor anyone see her like this. (Especially not Chloe.) But right now, she's too shattered to care about the prospect of 'usually', like it ever mattered in the first place. Like anything ever mattered. Anything besides Chloe.

"I hurt you," Rachel says, and sobs again at how truthful of a statement it was. "I hurt you, and I'm sorry. It's not okay. It never was. I keep hurting you, over and over-"

"Rachel-"

"And it's not like I want to hurt you." Rachel shakes her head vehemently. "It's not. I never wanted that. Never wanted to hurt you. Never. I care about you. Please don't- Please don't think otherwise-"

"Of course not…"

"I don't-" A gulp in an attempt to dispel the heaviness in her throat. "I don't think I can stand you thinking that I hate you-"

"C'mere, Rach."

And like a lost puppy, Rachel obliges. She throws herself at Chloe and lets her long, thin arms pretend they're sturdy enough to support her.

Everything is static white noise.

Chloe speaks a lot of things. Rachel doesn't really listen. It's a bunch of "everything's going to be okay"s and "don't worry"s. Basically bullshit.

One of her words sticks out more than the rest. The white noise slowly fades out in a high-pitched ringing, and Chloe's voice, breaking and pretending not to be breaking, replaces it.

"Don't worry about hurting me too much, yeah? I'm strong. I can handle myself fucking splendidly."

Rachel whimpers. Hearing Chloe say that hurts. She shakes her head and pulls Chloe closer. "No, Chlo-" A hiccup. "Chloe, no. Just- no."

If Chloe notices her distress, then she chooses not to comment on it. She chuckles instead, and leans forward, back, forward, and so forth. Rockabye the baby, rockabye.

"It's true, Rachel. You think you bite like a lion, but really, you're just a kitten, you cutie."

Chloe Price, the horrible liar.

Rachel closes her eyes and sighs, letting Chloe gather her bearings before gathering her, standing up with an exhausted mess in her arms.

She should complain and say that she can walk just fine, she has legs, thank you very much. Instead, she just wonders why she's this tired when she's only just woken up.

"Don't lie to me, Chloe. I've hurt you. It's true."

"I'm not lying."

Rachel wants to object, say that she is lying, but sleep is already kidnapping her from the land of the living.

~...~

"I need a shower."

Rachel doesn't move her eyes from that one spot on the floor. The itsy-bitsy crack among the dozens, and the remnants of what once must've been a spill of a drink.

She doesn't look away, not even to gauge Chloe's reaction.

Chloe, who's been alternating between going outside and out of earshot and tending to her needs.

Chloe, who doesn't complain or snap at her or look like she has better things to do.

Chloe, who she needs to change for.

Rachel stands up, regrets it due to the nausea and the fogginess in her mind that won't go away, and pretends that she doesn't. She walks on a line. No sway of the hips, no small comments, and no flirtatious winks, nothing. It's all mechanic. She doesn't quite hear Chloe calling out for her, but a part of her notices so.

She doesn't look at the mirror. She's always loved looking at the mirror, admiring the girl that always greets her confidently at the other end of it.

Now the very notion sickens her.

She doesn't want to do it. She's afraid to see what that girl looks like now. She must look filthy, slimy, gross, broken, disgusting. She must look weak and pathetic.

Rachel keeps scrubbing. She never feels clean. She scrubs so hard she bleeds. And even then she never stops scrubbing. Not after the water's cold. Not after Chloe knocks and says, "Rachel? Are you okay in there?"

Rachel can picture her outside, one hand hiding in the pocket of her jeans while the other, clenched into a fist, hovers by the door.

Chloe leans, and Chloe hunches. Her form is never straight, never equal. She thinks it makes her invisible. It only draws everyone's eyes towards her.

Rachel can picture it; calloused hands with soft pads and softer nails, and knuckles with echoes of scraps from all her history of defying the expected, brushing faintly against the withering wooden door.

She can picture it well.

"No, Chloe. I'm fine."

Rachel can see her clicking her tongue, hesitant. "It's just that it's almost been forty minutes. I thought something happened."

"I'm fine."

And Rachel can see her, worrying even more. Her heavy footsteps bellow - even without boots they're loud - as Chloe walks away, only to pause, walk back, pause again to try and think of the best way to show that she will always be there for her, only to say, "I put your clothes next to the doorstep. You can use my towel."

~...~

Chloe sees the red of her skin - failed attempts of cleansing herself from what he did, from the truth - and she says nothing.

(It's a good thing, really. Rachel would break all over again if she did.)

~...~

Chloe is waiting. She's waiting for her to tell her who 'did it' to her, and Rachel doesn't know how to tell her that her closest friend, the rich and snobbiest of the rich and the snobby did this to her after she told him of how much she despised Chloe, and thanked him for being such a good friend, unlike Chloe.

But Chloe is waiting. She hates silence. Rachel can tell. She's never used to it, and doesn't know what to do with it. So Rachel sweeps the silence away, and not because she isn't comfortable with it.

"What did Joyce say?"

Chloe flinches, startled that Rachel has shooed away the dreaded silence.

Now, she looks as though she prefers it.

Chloe Price, always changing her mind.

"Do you want me to be nice or do you want me to be brutal?"

"I want you to be real." Chloe sighs. Did she really expect anything else?

"Brutally real, then." She looks as though she were about to pour alcohol on Rachel's wound. She knows it's necessary, but she doesn't like that she's about to hurt Rachel, even if it isn't her fault. "Mom doesn't believe us. David doesn't either, that douchebag." Chloe looks like she's finished, but Rachel keeps looking at her, expecting, so Chloe clears her throat. "They think we're doing this for attention. That, or you partied too hard."

Rachel stares blankly. She wants to laugh. "Oh, so nothing's changed." Chloe looks away in shame she shouldn't feel. Rachel's vision blurs as she smiles sadly, more for Chloe than herself. She bumps against Chloe's shoulder, earning a glance. "It's us against the world, Price."

Chloe's head snaps towards her. She looks stricken, flabbergasted. Her look of surprise dims down, turning into something softer, warmer. It makes Rachel wonder what she's done to deserve an angel as special as her.

"Yeah." Chloe nods in agreement, looking younger than she has any right to be. "You and me, we're gonna burn this shitty town to the ground."

"Only one town?" Rachel snorts. "Lame."

"Really?" Chloe tilts her chin up. She looks absolutely cocky, and absolutely adorable. "How about one whole America?"

"How about one whole world?"

The best part is, she can imagine it. Her and Chloe, destroying the world because of how much they hate it. Rachel is sure she would do it, if given the chance.

Chloe suggests they tell James Amber about it. Rachel shuts her up quickly. It doesn't matter if he's the DA, Rachel would rather let herself get kidnapped and almost raped again before she asks him for help.

~...~

Rachel wonders if it's rape.

It's not like her memory is at its finest. Her clothes were still intact. Or maybe it's because she escaped before he could tear it off of her.

Rachel remembers cameras. And an artist's eyes.

Rachel remembers someone helping her escape.

~...~

She's lying down, burying her face in Chloe's chest. She's never felt so small. Chloe's never felt more like home. (Chloe _is_ home.)

"Chloe?"

"Hm?"

"I want to leave. Right now." Rachel is detached from her words, from herself. Maybe that's why it's so easy for her to say these things. "I can't stand it here anymore. If you don't want to leave, that's fine. But I'll do it. I'll go. I will go."

Rachel expects anger, or sadness, or disbelief.

She's a fool to expect any of that.

A somber chuckle. "Do you seriously think I'll let you leave alone?"

Rachel thinks of Chloe's friends, Chloe's family, Chloe's life.

She thinks about how she'll abandon it. How they'll both abandon it. Abandon everything they know, everything they've been building.

For once, Chloe Price isn't the one being abandoned.

For once, Rachel Amber knows what love is.

They leave.

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**~...~**

* * *

**A**uthor's** N**ote:

The style from the previous chapter to this one has changed drastically, in my opinion. The first was more loose, less formal, and more "Chloe", for the lack of a better word, whereas this one sometimes looks as though an old British lady from the 50s wrote it.

I considered proofreading this one last time and fix all of the possible mistakes as I did with _Can Fire Drown?_ but thought better of it. It'll take too long of a time, and I need to post every LiS story from FFnet to really see how many stories I've written. It can be seen as a sort of collection, I suppose.


	3. let's leave (and let's live)

**She Lives, and She Lies**

_JustClem_

* * *

**Chapter III; let's leave (and let's live)**

_**{**Originally posted in 25th of August, 2019**}**_

Rachel shouldn't be quiet.

Chloe shouldn't be calm.

A road trip shouldn't be this depressing.

* * *

**~...~**

* * *

Rachel has forgotten how to act, Chloe thinks. Or maybe she just doesn't bother with it anymore.

She's quiet these days. The people of Arcadia Bay would've laughed. "Rachel Amber? Quiet?" they would say, humor in their tone. "You must be losing your mind."

And they'd be right. She is losing her mind. She wants to hunt down whoever did this to her angel and murder them. But Rachel won't speak. She won't tell her. She's quiet these days.

Who knew a road trip could be this depressing?

Chloe wants to wish they left at a better note. That it didn't take all of this to make them leave in the first place. But she doesn't. Because a part of her hopes that this is what it would take for Rachel to understand that her and everyone's life are no joke, and she shouldn't play with them, and actions have consequences.

Does that make her fucked up? Yeah. It does. And she hates herself for it. Almost as much as she hates the fuckers who almost raped Rachel.

~...~

They no longer sleep apart. They no longer do anything apart. Rachel needs her. Their roles have been reversed. Chloe wants to miss her simpler things were, but she doesn't, because this, here and now, is living. She's alive, and Rachel's alive, and she doesn't question Rachel's love anymore. For once, she questions nothing. She's not stuck anymore. She's breathing, and she's moving forward.

~...~

As Chloe buys the cheapest order on the menu, she starts to think about applying for a job. They'll run out of money at one point. And by that she the money she stole from her mom and.

Chloe thinks of Joyce. Is she trying to call Chloe still? Or has she realised that Chloe and Rachel have left their phones behind. That they've left many things behind. That they want to forget about the town that have taken so many things from them. Things they love. Things that can never return to them - not anymore.

They don't want to be reminded of that. They want to move forward. So they leave everything behind.

"Chloe?"

Chloe sits down and gives Rachel her food with a small "yeah?".

"I think I'll need a fake ID." Rachel takes a dainty bite. Chloe chews in a more monstrous bite and slurps her drink with food still in her mouth. "My dad has connections. He has people all over the state looking for a girl named Rachel Amber."

Joyce would never go that far. She'd call once, twice, and give up with an "oh well" and a shrug before going back to kissing David's ass. She must be excited, Chloe thinks, to finally be alone with Stepdouche. They'll be one small, happy family. At long last.

"So you'll need a new name." Chloe slurps off the rest of her drink and burps. She grins at Rachel's disgust. "What'll it be? Shelly? Eve? Fucking Victoria?"

Rachel looks at her with a strange glint in her eyes, and a smile with meaning Chloe can't decipher. Rachel looks at her as though this is more than just fake IDs and fake names. Rachel looks at her as though nothing about this is fake.

"Price. Rachel Price."

~...~

Rachel leans on her shoulder in a near state of unconsciousness, wearing her jacket which makes her look smaller and younger than she has any right to be due to the large size of the fabric. That's when they arrive.

Chloe thinks this feeling of rush will go away once she finds herself a decent job of being a mechanic. Once they graduate from sleeping in their truck to sleeping in an actual apartment - kind of crampy but decent. Once they turn their apartment into their home. Once Rachel starts studying law because she can't stand the thought of exposing herself to anyone anymore.

Maybe then the feeling will go away. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Maybe she thinks wrong.

Maybe neither of them ever points out why they chose this place rather than anywhere else. Rachel just wants out. Vegas, LA, it doesn't matter to her anymore. Few things to her matter anymore.

Maybe everytime Chloe leaves for work, she always sees it, the sign that curses her, curses them both, standing proudly and innocently. The sign that confirms it all. That they're away from Arcadia Bay. The sign that reminds them, again and again, that they're in Seattle.

* * *

**~...~**

* * *

_Fin_

* * *

**~...~**

* * *

**A**uthor's **N**ote:

What a weird end to a weird story. This chapter itself is barely 700 words long. I think what I like most about this story is that no one really asked for it, and the pairing I chose isn't the most popular, and it didn't get any popular, but... I still love it. I wrote it for me, and I think that's what matters. I need to do things for myself every once in a while, you know. After all, isn't that what Fan Fictions are for? Self-enjoyment and self-fulfillment?

In case anyone's even reading this, I hope you've gained something good from this, and I wish you a good day.


End file.
